


Like His Father

by AdorkableSmile



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-10 10:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6981280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdorkableSmile/pseuds/AdorkableSmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this tumblr post: http://lazy-afternooner.tumblr.com/post/140392964301/twitter-doodles-if-kyle-ron-wasnt-force-sensitive </p>
<p>Ben Solo has joined his father on the Millennium Falcon and now they're working for the rebels, chasing after a droid containing valuable information about the First Order. Only now, vying for his father's attention and a place on board the ship, are a scavenger who happens to be a HUGE fan of Han Solo, a First Order soldier on the run from his own kind, and One Hell of a Pilot. Sound familiar?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The air of Jakku whispered with particles of sand, the sky seemed to hiss and fuzz like static on a screen. Ripples of sand folded over themselves and rolled dunes steadily southwards under the whistling wind. This was Jakku on a good day; on a bad day, anything not nailed down would get picked up. Everything nailed down would be eaten through by abrasion.

Niima Outpost thrived on these good days, and often under the bad days too. There was not much a good ship wouldn't withstand, and Jakku's sandstorms were often sniffed at by the hardier spacers. They'd been on Tattooine during the dust storms which had grounded Imperial landing craft and forced wandering patrols of stormtroopers into the shelter of nearby cantinas or, if truly desperate, the homes of strangers such as they could force their way into. Sometimes, if the storms were bad enough on Jakku, the scavengers would get to sit in their shacks and listen to a smuggler recounting those tales. The black markets in Mos Espa and Mos Eisley had thrived in those murky days, vagabonds doing trade through rags and masks to breathe through the storms; while the stormtroopers huddled in the bars and houses, paranoid hands hovering over blasters as they watched for any sign of trouble, the criminals bartered with jawas over parts stolen from lightly-guarded spaceships and swapped looted cargo from Imperial landers to their own empty ships, ready for takeoff. All of them recall, however, the one moment in these storms where Tatooine really shone. Their eyes would suddenly go distant and their voices would drop, and they would all speak in awe of The Ship.

'Everyone thought they were fools,' the old smugglers would say, their pipes leaving their mouths as they reflected on the moment. 'The most anyone saw was laser fire and then that blast of blue. All they heard were the shouts, and then the roar which reached above even the sandstorm.'

And everything would seem so quiet and dark, the only light casting on the storyteller's face and deepening every careworn crease, the only sound the howling and grating of the sand outside. It would feel as though they were there, their lungs choked by sand or the closeness of their dingy huts, the darkness a mask of their own that they could barely see through. And the smugglers would pause in wonder as their brain worked it over in the manner of a punter trying desperately to catch out the magician performing his trick.

'Three of them,' they'd say. 'There were only three of them. And they took off in the middle of the dust storm of the century.'

And what, the wide-eyed hosts to the storm-locked smugglers would ask, was the name of the ship? The spacers would stare at them, mouth agape, almost afraid to utter the name lest they call its insanity on themselves.

'The Millennium Falcon.'

-

It was on a good day that it was spotted coming into land at Niima Outpost. Scavengers called out at the sight of the bright white disc, a shining star against the cloudless blue sky.

'It's coming! They're back! The _Millennium Falcon_ is back!' Children ran gleefully to the landing stage, Unkar Plutt's back yard and an impound lot for the smugglers who couldn't pay his landing fees – which, if the stories were to be believed, these guys couldn't. The elderly inhabitants sat around scrubbing the day's haul of scrap and discussing the impending landing.

'Third time this year, they've been coming here a lot.'

'Do you think they're after something?'

'They'll need to get a new ship if they can't pay this time, Unkar's not going to take another excuse.'

'He's already pulling in his thugs, look; they'll be armed to the teeth by the time that junker lands.'

'Don't let the pilot hear you talking like that, he'll have your hide!'

'Him or his co-pilot? I can't tell which ones the beast!'

'Easy! They say he's married to royalty!'

'They say, they say! They never prove anything, do they?'

'What d'you think he's doing out here again so soon?'

The arguments kept going, round and round in circles as the ship drew closer. One young scavenger with keen eyes saw the white blob resolve into a circular ship with a pointed prow and an outcropping cockpit, more battered and bruised than any other ship she had seen before. The blaster marks were evident, long dark scores all along the underside, and where the panels were not aged and discoloured they seemed to be trying to shake themselves off the hull, they were so hastily patched and bolted back on.

Rey sighed and dumped her scrap metal back into the netting. Unkar would've shut up shop for the day with this arrival; he was out for blood this time and no mistake. Grey-clad enforcers lined up in a pretend rank-and-file, mismatched lines and uncertain shuffling making a bizarre dance of Brownian motion which threatened to send the thugs rattling to every corner of the Outpost.

Rey stared down at her net and sighed. She wasn't getting any food today, it seemed. She kicked it aggressively under the table, where something beeped and whirred in agitation at her. She ducked her head underneath and stared topsy-turvy at the robot.

'Just keep quiet,' she hissed. 'No one knows you're here!'

The ship rumbled ever closer, and as its landing struts unearthed themselves from the inner workings of the hull Unkar Plutt left the enormous tent that made up Niima Outpost's bustling market and waddled to the head of the makeshift army.

The Millenium Falcon landed perfectly, the prow pointing towards Plutt. The gap between the two triangular points of the ship formed a gap-toothed smile which grinned at the Junkboss and only riled him up further.

'Han Solo!' he roared. 'Come out of that ship with your hands up or we will come aboard and gut you for rations!'

No answer. Unkar motioned to his militia; they raised their weapons, pointed at the cockpit.

Sudden activity caused them to swivel, a disorganised movement which threw off the rhythm and effect of a well-drilled army and turned them into a bunch of gawking bystanders with blasters. The landing ramp came down with a whirr and a clang, and shouts could be heard from within. There was a heated debate going on, and some... roaring? As one, the thugs and Unkar Plutt leaned forward, ears straining to hear the conversation as it moved closer.

'...back into the hold, I'll deal with-'

'Back into the hold? Last time I did that we-'

'This is not a debate, I'm telling you to-'

'Who's telling who to what now? You watch your mouth, boy, or-'

'I flew us here, I'm talking to Plutt! Now get back inside before he starts blasting at us!'

A pair of legs appeared, followed by a loose white shirt and a dusty waistcoat. Classic Han Solo style. What confused everyone was, the person wearing them was not Han Solo.

His hair was long too long, and it was still black. His mouth was too wide, and his face too long, and he had a prominent nose. When taken individually they might have been unflattering, but overall his appearance was dignified and charismatic. He did not appear to have noticed the gathering of warriors at the front gate, but was staring off to one side and having an argument with someone in his ear.

'I told you, I'll handle it... no, that's a _stupid_ thing to say and _only stupid people would say that_... I have my own plan, thank you, I know what I'm – oh.'

He glanced up and did a double take. It had taken a few seconds for the thugs to process this newcomer and raise their weapons to him – he was now on the business end of more than two dozen blaster rifles, a fact which didn't seem to faze him in the least.

'You!' Unkar Plutt cried. 'Where is Solo?' The young man raised his eyebrows and his hand flew to his chest.

'Call me Ben,' he called back. 'My father's name is Solo!'

'Your fa- You are the son of Han Solo?' Unkar's piggy eyes screwed up even smaller in confusion.

'Much as I wish I wasn't,' the young Solo replied. 'Ben Solo, at your service. We're in rather a hurry, so if-'

'The Son of Solo is good enough!' Plutt barked with laughter. 'Can _you_ repay his debts?'

The curious, appraising look never left Ben Solo's face. He clasped his hands behind his back and studied the Junkboss and his men closely, and then he took a breath and spoke.

'How much do you pay your thugs, Plutt?' he asked.

'Men!' Plutt called, ignoring him. 'Ready!'

'I only ask because-'

'Take aim!'

'The First Order are right on our tail and we're only here for one droid.'

Unkar's face twisted into confusion again, and then stretched into a grin that screamed _profit_. He took a step forward.

'A droid, eh? And how much are you paying for this droid?'

'You there!' One of Plutt's men started as Ben called to him. He pointed at himself in the fashion of _Who? Me?_ And Ben nodded.

'Yes you!' he called, as Plutt turned to tell him off. 'How much would I have to pay you to shoot Unkar Plutt in the back?'

Unkar Plutt turned back to Ben Solo in fury as weapons suddenly wavered.

'You'd have to pay high!' he roared. 'I pay them in rations; they don't serve, they don't eat!'

'A free ride off this planet to the first person who shoots Unkar Plutt in the back for me!'

Unkar Plutt stared at the young man before him. Ben Solo wasn't even looking at him; his stare of appraisal was looking out over Niima Outpost in search of a missing droid.

Suddenly, more footsteps. Another pair of legs down the ramp, and suddenly Han Solo himself was in front of Plutt, glowering at his son.

'That's not what we're here for!' he reprimanded. He turned to the masses once more.

'I was getting to that,' Ben replied as Han opened his mouth to speak. 'Dad,' he added, almost as an afterthought. He turned away and stared out over the desert landscape.

'Captain,' Han insisted, and turned back to Plutt's soldiers. 'Alright everyone, a free ride to anyone who knows anything about our droid! BB unit, orange and white! One of a kind, according to its owner!'

Unkar Plutt's eyes widened. He grinned like a maniac.

'I know where your droid is!' he yelled triumphantly. 'I know who has it, I know where you can find them, and I'm not going to tell you anything!'

'Alright,' Han said. He walked out from under the shade of the Falcon and put his arm around Plutt's shoulder. Leading him around the side of the Falcon, he began to talk.

'Okay, Plutt, let's settle this. How much do you want for your information?' Plutt grinned like a madman.

'You always have something good, Solo,' he said. 'What contraband are you flying this time?'

'I've got some good Corellian Brandy if you're interested,' Han insisted.

'Weak stuff!' Plutt scoffed. 'You can get that at any Republic bar! Give me something good, Solo, or I walk!'

'Alright,' Han said. 'What about some Alderaan Wine? Incredibly rare nowadays, can't find it around so easily, eh?'

'You try to ply me with alcohol again, Solo, and I shoot you myself. What about parts? Scrap? Weapons!' Han took in a breath and shook his head.

'Sorry, Plutt,' he sighed. 'I can't help you there.' Unkar Plutt stepped out of Han's grip and stood in thought for a moment.

'Then how about... your ship?' He grinned, sharklike, and Han seemed to consider the deal.

'Or...' he said, and the paused. Unkar's mouth twitched and he leaned it.

'Or what?' he growled.

'Or my boy's already spotted our prize and I was distracting you all along!' Han grinned as the cannon mounted under the hull swivelled, and the ranks of Plutt's thugs scattered as its barrel whirred and fired the first shot.

'Nice shot Chewie!' Ben yelled into his headset, as the few enforcers who'd stood worse than a ship's cannon were bowled over by their false bravado. Ben leapt over them as they struggled to their feet and ran, hot on the heels of the girl with the bright eyes who'd run off with the droid.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey is on the run, but why? We find out. Along the way, a new character is introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMIGOSH THANK U GUYS SO MUCH! *o* Thanks, CultureVulture73 and all the other people who've left kudos already, you guys are just the best and the support means so much to me ^_^ As a reward, you're getting chapter 2 WAY early, awesome!

Rey had run from people she didn't know before. She'd reluctantly turned tail and hauled some valuables from Plutt's stall, enforcer's following in her wake, when times had been tough before and Plutt had been unwilling to trade her scrap for rations. Only now her eyes burned and her cheeks were bright red because the person she was running from was none other than _Han Solo, Smuggler Extraordinaire_! She was running from Han Solo! Why was she running from Han Solo? She'd wondered that herself, but made no comment about it to BB-8.

It was BB-8 who'd started her running, in fact. The little droid had exclaimed at something behind her, but before she could see what it was the droid was gone from under her legs and chasing down someone she could glimpse only briefly as a darker brown blur against the browny-yellow background of sand.

They twisted round two corners and tumbled through a tent before she saw him, cornered by a couple of errant thugs of Plutt's who'd decided to hang back from the main event at the impound lot. The first thing she noticed was the jacket, because that was what BB-8 was whistling about, spouting again and again that _that's not his jacket that's my owner's jacket why is he wearing my owner's jacket how dare he wear my-_

'Yes, yes, I get it!' Rey hissed. She darted forwards; the man did not see her come up behind.

In fact, the first he knew of it was when he was bent double and she rolled over his back to strike one thug in the head with a swing of her weapon. The man turned and found himself facing BB-8.

'Hey! You're that droid!'

'Oi!'

He turned back; Rey was currently fighting to keep both the thugs at bay but together they were overpowering her.

'I'll help!' the young man cried, looking around frantically. 'Uhhh... where are the blasters?'

'Just do something!' Rey yelled, stunning an enforcer with a jab in the ribs. The young man looked around and picked up a basket of rotten fruit. With a cry of 'Duck!' he lobbed it.

Rey felt the basket brush past her hair, and stared as it impacted on one of the thugs, soaking his clothes in rancid juice. She turned and glared at him.

'Not helping!' she yelled. 'Come on!' She grabbed his hand and ran the other way, BB-8 following close behind.

'Where are we going?' the young man cried.

'We're going to the Millennium Falcon!' Rey explained. 'We've got to get this droid to Han Solo!'

'Han Solo? You mean the rebel soldier?'

'No! Han Solo the smuggler! Come on!'

They darted into another tent and found themselves face to face with three more vagabonds. These were not Plutt's men, however; they were simple thieves, looking to make a living stealing the rations from honest scavengers. One of them drew a vibroblade from a makeshift scabbard and leered at them. No words were spoken, but the language was plain: give us your rations, or meet an unpleasant end.

'I reckon we can take 'em,' the young man muttered to Rey. 'But only if you get me that guy's blaster.' He gestured with his head to the thief on the right, who toted an old and slightly rusty blaster pistol.

'Why should I trust you?' Rey hissed, as they slowly backed into a corner.

'Because I tried to help you before,' the young man said.

'Badly!' Rey snorted. The man sighed.

'And... I'm with the rebels,' he admitted reluctantly. 'That droid? He belongs to Poe Dameron, I knew him personally.'

'Why should I believe that?' Rey hissed. She felt her back hit the tough fabric of the tent.

'Because,' the man whispered. 'This jacket I'm wearing was his.'

-

The young man was not lying about the jacket. Nor was he lying about knowing Poe Dameron. What he was lying about, was being with the rebels.

At least, technically.

The young man was Finn, formerly designated FN-2187, and until recently he had been one of countless First Order stormtroopers. His first foray onto Jakku soil had been just the day before, when he had watched the senseless violence and murder of the planet's inhabitants and made a choice, one from which he could not return.

Poe Dameron had been his first encounter with a proper rebel. He was... well, _handsome_ , and friendly and kind and he'd given FN-2187 a name which he'd treasure forever.

'And in return, you get him killed!' Finn had yelled at himself, hour after hour when he'd crash-landed back on Jakku. 'Nice going, Finn! All you had to do was shoot down some missiles but _no_ , you had to argue with him instead!' He screwed up his eyes and kicked at the sand, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

The rest of the day was spent stumbling through Jakku sand until he collapsed into a trough and gulped down the smelly water like it was life blood. At some point, Plutt's enforcers took note and approached him.

'You there! What are you doing?' one thug demanded, jabbing him with a staff. Finn fell backwards and waved them away.

'I'm thirsty, okay?' he cried. 'I haven't had a drink all day!'

'Well you can't drink here!' the other thug snarled. 'You've gotta pay for your water here!'

'Get outta here, before we make you pay!' the first thug sneered, and Finn slunk away.

He pushed his way through the market and out into the sun, lamenting his status now he was not backed up by an army of anonymous soldiers, when he caught sight of something that broke him out of his reverie.

'Hey! I know you! You're the droid that-'

He paused, his smile turning down as the little robot barrelled towards him.

Somehow, this droid with one circular eye-camera incapable of expressing any emotion, looked angry.

Finn suddenly realised he was, to this droid, a complete stranger; but more importantly, he was a stranger _wearing his master's jacket_ on this planet where the droid had last seen his master.

He turned and sprinted off as fast as he could, aware all the while of BB-8's frantic, angry beeping.

And then he saw the thugs again.

'Hey! Hey!' he called. 'Hey guys! Help!'

The thugs stood stock-still and blocked his path, their staffs crossing and preventing his escape.

'I thought we told you to get out of here,' the first thug warned.

'So what do we do with you now?'

Before Finn could explain he was suddenly staring at the floor and fighting to keep his balance. There was a commotion above him and he stumbled around until he was stood up again.

And there was BB-8.

'Hey! You're that droid!'

-

Rey sighed and rolled his eyes.

'Fine!' she snapped. Her arm jerked and the staff jammed against the thief's wrist. The blaster went tumbling up into the air; after a moment, the other thieves darted forwards.

Rey found herself against the man with the vibroblade; he lunged forwards and Rey parried, dodging his next attack too and grabbing his wrist. She fell backwards and rolled, kicking up; the vibroblade sliced easily through the fabric of the tent and the thief tumbled onto the sand outside. Rey followed him through the gap, righting herself and turning to face him. Meanwhile, Finn caught the blaster and rolled out of the way of the other thieves' swinging attacks as they leapt for him with staffs. His first shot took out the leg of the thief who'd originally brandished the blaster; his second struck the other thief in the wrist. He dropped his staff and grimaced, but drew a shock stick and activated it. He and Finn circled each other, waiting for the other to attack.

Finn broke first, firing a bolt at the man, but he dodged and closed, swinging widely with the shock stick. It was a poor attack and Finn leapt back in an easy dodge, but it left him unbalanced and the thief was faster on the shock stick. Finn cried out and tumbled backwards, through the hole in the tent.

And into Rey, who tripped over him as she avoided another swing from the vibroblade. The two thieves stood over them, the chasing thugs approaching from the side.

'Nice work,' one thug said. 'Leave them to us, we'll see you get some rations for it!'

'Extra rations for the droid.'

The six people there turned. From the back of the tent was the third thief, BB-8 trying desperately to roll away from him but held securely in his clutches. He limped towards his comrades triumphantly.

And then he gave a yelp and collapsed, as did the thief with the vibroblade. Before the thugs could react, the third thief took a blaster bolt to the face and one of the enforcers took one in the chest. The other enforcer saw the certain future if he stayed there, and turned tail and ran.

Finn and Rey turned.

Next to BB-8 stood Ben Solo, blaster in hand. He was studying Finn, brow creased in mild confusion. He cocked his head to one side and pointed to him.

'Hey,' he said. 'I recognise that jacket.'

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Han and Unkar Plutt scrap beneath the Millenium Falcon, Ben is interrogating Finn about his rebel status. But time is running out, and the all-too-familiar drone of twin-ion engines brings the realisation that the First Order is already on the trail of BB-8, or perhaps just a smugglers ship with rumoured ties to the Rebel Alliance...

Han ducked Plutt's swinging fist as he considered his next move. His son would likely have the droid by now and be on his way back, but there was every possibility he would be mown down by the scattered thugs as they regrouped. Meanwhile Plutt was making it difficult for him to concentrate on removing the obstacle; the scrap merchant continued swinging his fists at Han, following him as he ducked and dodged around the _Falcon_ 's cannon.

'Hey Chewie,' Han spoke into his headset. 'Any chance you can fire up that cannon again? I think Plutt's army is regrouping.'

There was a roar from the other end and Han ducked. Plutt only had time to turn and see the cannon heading in his direction before it swung into his face and knocked him to the floor.

Han stood up, wincing at the twinge in his back from moving so fast, and drew his pistol. He pointed it at Plutt's head.

'Cute trick,' Plutt growled. 'Do you think you'll get away without the First Order hearing about this?'

'I'm sure they already have,' Han replied. 'Doesn't change things for me; we'll be leaving as soon as Ben is back, and we'll be taking our ship. You are gonna stay here, and let us go.'

'Or what?' Plutt asked.

'Or,' Han said, 'we'll do to you what we're about to do to your crew. Chewie?'

The cannon roared, louder than Han expected. The thugs had already scattered again and so the blast just knocked down two absent-minded enforcers. It also knocked Han off balance as he flinched from the sound, and Plutt used that to his advantage.

Han felt his leg fall away beneath him as Plutt pulled him to the floor. The alien was standing above him, a length of metal piping in his hands. He raised it up and brought it down where Han's head was lying in the sand.

It missed, by a hair's breadth. Han kicked out Plutt's leg and shuffled away, trying to aim his gun, but Plutt was already back up and swinging wildly at him.

'Chewie!' Han yelled, firing once. The blast narrowly missed Unkar and he swung the pipe at Han's arm, knocking his blaster away. Han stopped shuffling, hands up by his head.

'Okay,' he said. 'Obviously you're pretty mad about this, but-'

'But nothing, Solo.' Unkar Plutt's grip tightened on the pipe. 'This is the last time you try to make a fool of me!'

It was then that they both heard the whine of a twin-Ion engine. Han looked first; it gave him the time he needed to twist to his feet and scurry away as fast as his arthritic bones could manage. Unkar Plutt turned and stared at the First Order TIE fighters which were flying towards the impound yard side by side.

'No!' he roared. 'Not now!' He turned to run but a bolt from the fighters' cannons exploded beside him, throwing him sideways.

Han hid himself on the _Falcon_ 's loading ramp.

'Chewie!' he yelled. 'Get up top, make sure they can't get an angle on us! Ben? Come in Ben!'

'On my way, dad!' Ben snapped back. 'It's not easy over here, you know!'

“Over here” was not three tents away, a straight dash to the yard were it not for the enforcers who were closing on their position. It had all started with that jacket.

'Yeah,' Finn said. 'It belonged to a rebel pilot; I tried to help him escape from the First Order.'

'Why?' Ben asked, gun pointed at Finn. His face remained neutral.

'I'm a rebel!' Finn cried, exasperated. 'Uh... deep cover! Yeah, that's it – I was undercover, deep in the First Order. I broke him out but... he died. Our ship crashed and I was thrown from the wreckage...' he tailed off, his eyes distant.

Rey's lip trembled and she put a hand on his shoulder. Finn turned to her, partly out of confusion and partly out of fear.

'It's okay,' she said. 'You did your best, I'm sure. If you couldn't get him out of there, then there wasn't any way to save him.'

Finn's eyes returned to stare at the ground, but he nodded.

'You're just going to take him at his word?' Ben cried. Rey shot him a dirty look.

'He has the jacket!' she protested. 'What, you think he's a stormtrooper who just _took_ that jacket from a prisoner and decided to come down here?'

Ben stared at her for a moment, and the lowered the gun and shrugged.

'Well when you put it like that...' he muttered, shoving the blaster back into its holster petulantly. 'Come on, dad's waiting for us!'

The roar of the TIE fighter engines rumbled overhead as the fighters swooped in for another bombing run; their lasers tore up the turf around the impound yard and blew up the tent next to Finn, Rey and Ben. The three of them sprawled on the ground, dazed.

Ben recovered first. BB-8 was rolling around next to the smoking remains of the tent, confused; in an instant Ben was on his feet, the droid scooped up in his arms.

BB-8 bleeped indignantly and tried to scrabble free, but Ben had a tight hold on the little robot. All they succeeded in doing was ramming their head against Ben's arm. In desperation, BB-8 activated their lighter.

Ben cried out and dropped the droid, who scurried off towards the impound yard. He groaned and drew his blaster.

'Sorry,' he muttered. 'I hate to do this, but-'

His blaster went off as Finn barged into him, the shot going wide.

'Are you crazy?' Finn cried. 'We need that droid!'

'You need that droid? I- Hey!'

This last exclamation was directed at Rey, who sprinted ahead. BB-8 was heading towards the crowd of enforcers who were aiming at the Millennium Falcon, their body whirring around as fast as it could go.

The drone of twin-ion engines sent Rey into a panic. She was out in the open, and the TIE fighter was coming in low, above the Falcon. She pumped her legs as fast as she could, her feet striking the sand and kicking up great clouds as she dug in and tried to find an extra burst of speed. Her eyes on the droid, thoughts started spiralling through her head: why was she doing this? To save the droid? But why save the droid? Because she had done so before? Because she felt a kinship with the lost little orphan robot? But why risk her life so? Was one little droid really worth it?

She could see the TIE fighter suddenly looming overhead, the cannons red with imminent laser fire. She gasped and made a leap for the droid...

The TIE fighter exploded. It continued in flight for a moment, spinning lazily end over end, before crashing into the enforcers and sending them scattering like pins before a bowling ball. It bounced once, crashed into Unkar Plutt's market stall, and collapsed into a heap of twisted metal, electronics and fuel merrily ablaze.

Ben stared. The dust thrown up by the debris made it hard to see, and he found himself constantly blinking dust and tiny scraps of metal from his eyes, but it seemed anyone near the enforcers – a droid and a lost desert waif included – was utterly destroyed.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han, Chewie and Ben must escape from Jakku, but they have a problem: there's still one TIE fighter flying around somewhere, and Ben's nowhere to be seen. Neither is the droid; can Han save them? Or will they be left to the mercy of a First Order bombing run and Unkar Plutt's thugs?

At the first sign of the TIE fighter run on the impound yard, Han Solo had put as much distance between himself and the Millennium Falcon. This was not out of fear that the Falcon would be destroyed – no, he had far too much faith in Chewie for that! - rather because, on the off-chance that Chewie missed, he'd like a shot with his own gun when it turned around for another run.

The cannon of the Millenium Falcon was still smoking from the shot. All around was scattered debris: half a wing here, a scattering of engine parts there... Chewbacca's aim was still perfect, it had been a direct hit.

The dust hung about lazily in the air, but it began to clear and Han saw the devastation. He hurried forwards, heart in his mouth and one question on his lips.

'Ben!' he shouted. 'Ben! Are you okay, Ben?'

On the ground, Unkar Plutt clutched his head and groaned. Surely this was too much noise so soon after a bombing run?

The whine of the second TIE fighter coming in grated against his head. Why did they have to be so _loud_? Han was shouting something about his son, although that was getting quieter now, but that engine was getting louder and louder! He prayed that it would stop soon.

Han, too, was quieting down as the TIE fighter closed in. It was coming through the dust, he couldn't see anything. But Chewbacca was still alert as ever, pitching the cannon of the Falcon down and towards the dust cloud as it cleared slowly, lifting his enormous shaggy head to peer through the window rather than staring at the radar, which was only picking up interference from the sand that had been kicked up. Han gritted his teeth; he had no way of helping them, not through this debris.

Something glowed red in the sand. In a flash it was over Han's head and striking the cannon of the Millenium Falcon; in his headset, Han heard the roar of indignation.

'Get outta there, Chewie!' Han cried, but too late! There was another blast, a bright flash of red within the cloud. Han turned, fully expecting to see the Falcon fall to the ground, landing struts buckled from the shot, or else simply explode.

It stood, unharmed. Sure, it was a little beaten up from years of weathering, but otherwise it was just fine. Han turned; he hadn't seen the bolt fly off anywhere, and it certainly hadn't hit the ground anywhere near _him_. So where...

The TIE fighter was aflame, and what's more, it was coming out of the dust towards him. He turned and ran again, scrabbling for the safety of the Falcon. The red streak on one side of the First Order fighter shone bright and fierce behind him as it thundered to the ground, smashing the bottom of its wing but not dying, the pilot inside still wrestling for control. It wobbled and regained some altitude, turning and bearing down once more on Han Solo. Han glanced back and he swore he could see those laser cannons warming up for another shot at him...

A bolt of red sailed over his head and struck the spaceship dead centre, blossoming out against the pilots chest. Something sparked, and the rest of the fighter ignited in a blazing fireball. Han felt himself propelled forward by the explosion, landing heavily on his stomach. He lay still for quite some time, eyes tight shut, breathing heavily.

Chewbacca roared in his ear, concerned.

'I'm fine, Chewie,' Han breathed, getting to his feet. 'Let's see if we can find Ben.'

The dust still had not settled – Jakku dust tends to stick around, it floats lazily as much as it stays on the ground. The enforcers who found themselves somehow still alive within it arose shakily, and retreated immediately upon catching sight of Han's blaster trained on their faces. They backed away, glad to be alive more than anything else.

Han strode carefully through the field of bodies. There had been ranks of thugs five deep, and now the centremost columns had been scattered by cannon fire only to regroup in time to get crushed by not one, but two TIE fighters. Those who still breathed considered themselves unbelievably lucky.

The dust began to clear, to lighten as Han got through it, and towards the rear of the ranks he found a young girl, curled around the robot he'd been here to find. He stared at her curiously; she couldn't be one of Plutt's enforcer's, surely? Not that it mattered – she wasn't moving. He leaned down slowly, aware that his back wasn't what it once was.

BB-8 beeped in alarm, turning to look at the girl, and she started. Her eyes flicked open and she gasped in a lungful of air; shifting into a sitting position, she grinned as she looked around.

'Did we survive?' she asked, turning to BB-8. 'I think we survived! We did it! We- oh.'

Han's eye twitched as she stared up at him; he knew that look. He grunted and shifted slightly, offering his hand to the girl. She took it, and he hauled her to her feet.

'What's your name, kid?' he asked. She blinked a couple of times and shook her head before saying, 'oh! It's Rey, sir.'

'Is this your droid?' He indicated BB-8. Rey glanced down before shaking her head.

'I found it in the desert,' she explained. 'We were going to wait until its owner came back, but...' Han's face fell.

'I... I see,' he said quietly. He stared at the ground, dumbstruck, but quickly regained his composure.

'Come on,' he said. 'Head to the Falcon, the landing ramp is down.' Rey's eyes lit up and her smile grew even wider.

'You mean-' she began, but Han interrupted.

'Just go! That droid's gotta stay safe, it's important!'

BB-8 whistled in delight as Rey ran full-tilt towards the ship, following on as fast as they could roll. Han watched them for a moment before turning and heading out of the cloud. It was finally beginning to lift, but he still couldn't see any sign of Ben; where was he?

The sudden chilling thought entered his brain: that Ben had been killed by that second TIE fighter, and the bolt that had flashed in the sandstorm had got him. He rushed forward, out into the open, searching for any sign of his son.

'Ben?' he called. 'Ben? Son!' He was frantic, grinding his teeth and staring about, but the landscape was bare. There was no sign of him.

'Dad!'

Han turned. Ben was standing on top of the wreckage in Unkar Plutt's office, grinning. He jumped down easily as someone else clambered through a shattered panel of the cockpit window. Someone wearing a jacket Han recognised.

Ben must have seen Han's expression, because he allowed the other man to catch up before reaching his father.

'Dad,' he said proudly. 'This is Finn. Turns out he's a damn good shot – the rebels could use him!'

'Really?' Han said. 'With that jacket, he looks the part already – where are you from, son? I don't remember you from our previous visits.'

'I've been around and about,' Finn said evasively. 'I just wanna get away from here right now.'

'Well the Rebellion certainly could use another good shot,' Han said awkwardly. 'Come on; the First Order rarely sends just two ships!'

By the time they got back to the ship Unkar Plutt was unsteadily on his feet, wandering around in a daze. Han couldn't resist a jibe as they ran past.

'I've left you a lotta scrap, Plutt!' he shouted. 'That should cover the costs of all our visits!'

They were all on board and away before Plutt's head cleared enough to start cursing their names.

So how, Han wondered, had Ben and Finn survived.

'Luck,' Ben said. 'That fighter Chewie shot down landed in Plutt's office; we took cover there when we heard the second one, and Finn realised the guns were pointing the right way.'

'It was a miracle they still worked!' Finn cried. 'But oh man, what a shot! Solo, your son is an ace! He had no time to aim, it was fire and hope, and he hit it!'

Ben turned away, begrudgingly accepting the praise, and Han nodded, unimpressed.

'You're new here,' he said, 'so I'm gonna let it slide for now, but for future reference: don't call me Solo.' He turned and left, limping a little; perhaps the explosion had done more damage than he thought.

When he got to the cockpit, however, there was someone else there with Chewbacca.

'What are you doing flying my ship?' he asked Rey. She turned, shrinking away from him and her lip wobbled.

'Sorry, Mr Solo, sir,' she said. 'Chewie said it was okay?' Han sighed as Chewbacca growled at him.

'Alright,' he said. 'I think I need to check myself over anyway. Just... don't touch anything without asking Chewie first.'

He left the cockpit and headed back to the living area, sinking into one of the reclining seats. Ben sidled over as he closed his eyes.

'Dad,' he said quietly. 'When are we gonna drop these two off? They're already starting to bug me.'

'Just as soon as we get to the rebel base,' Han muttered, slowly drifting off. 'Just as soon as...'

He trailed off, and in moments he was snoring deeply as the Millennium Falcon entered a low orbit and headed off into deep space.

 


End file.
